


don't turn him into a tragedy / i won't, i won't, i won't.

by MostlyFandomTrash



Series: there's a reason they call it a tragedy. [1]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyFandomTrash/pseuds/MostlyFandomTrash
Summary: the story is only a tragedy if the god loves you back.or, morpheus falls in love and everything else falls apart.





	don't turn him into a tragedy / i won't, i won't, i won't.

 

> **don't turn him into a tragedy / i won't, i won't, i won't**

* * *

 

 

 

"Thanatos."

 

 

A voice stretched out of the darkness behind the death god, and as he turned and caught sight of the shock of white locks that belonged to his twin and stood out so easily among the dead.

 

 

"Hypnos."

 

 

The god of sleep looked, as he always did, tired -- but there was something like worry there, as well.

 

 

"Tell me, Brother, have you seen the Oneiroi?"

 

 

Thanatos let out a deep chuckle and placed a hand on Hypnos' shoulder.

 

 

"No, Brother, I have not. Do not worry, though, for they are young and still learning thier spears. They will return."

 

 

Hypnos gave Thanatos a sleepy smile, and placed his own hand over his brother's.

 

 

"Yes, I suppose so. I should go back to Pasithea and tell her this."

 

 

And so, now free of worry and mostly eclipsed by weariness, the god of sleep disappeared into the darkness, and the god of death let off a sharp-toothed smile as he watched him go.

 

 

/

 

 

They blended in with the pale, cold colors of the boy's room. White-gray hair, bright blue eyes, Morpheus was merely watching the boy in his sleeping state.

 

 

"Morpheus," said the boy, opening his eyes and reaching out to run his hand over the godling's pale face. "you're still here."

 

 

"I am always here," the godling responded, taking the boy's hand and brushing thier lips against it. "watching over you."

 

 

"You must leave, before my father wakes and makes you." The boy whispered, shuddering -- it was not because of the cold.

 

 

"I must," -- a kiss to his palm -- "do no," -- to the inside of his wrist -- "such thing." -- leaning forward to press one to his neck. "I am a god, he can do nothing to me."

 

 

"Do not hurt him, my Dreamer, please." The boy -- the demigod, perhaps? -- pleaded, softly, leaning to kiss the godling's cheek.

 

 

"If you do not want it so, then it will not be." Morpheus promised, kissing the boy's lips. "Sleep, youthful Maliki, I'll keep my brothers, and your monsters, away."

 

 

The boy, now surely a demigod, stared for a moment at his godly lover and then his eyelids fluttered close.

 

 

/

 

 

"He is mine! Mine, dark Morpheus, do you understand?" Hebe sobbed, electricity sparking in the air around the goddess of youth. "You can not have him!"

 

 

The godling of dreams lifted thier chin, determined not to give thier feelings for the demigod up. "Please, gentle Hebe, please. I love. . . I love him."

 

 

The goddess of youth made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, and stood up straight. Her sobs ceased. "Do you, really, love him as you say?"

 

 

"Yes," breathed Morpheus, thier fingers curled into fists. "Yes, I love him as I say."

 

 

Hebe let free a soft sigh, and tapped her fingers against thier cheek. "I beg you, do not turn my son into a tragedy, Morpheus."

 

 

They let out an unsteady breath. "I won't," they promised, "I won't, I won't." They cried, dropping thier head against her shoulder.

 

 

/

 

 

He laughed against thier skin, thier fingers digging into his sides as he kissed them.

 

 

"Morpheus," the boy said, his voice feather-light and breathless, "tell me something amazing."

 

 

They laughed, leaning up to kiss the boy hungrily. "You," they muttered, "you, you."

 

 

Maliki pushed them away to stare at their face, so very close to his own. "Tell me something else."

 

 

"I love you," and Morpheus kissed him again, softer, "and I shall always love you."

 

 

The boy ran his fingers through thier hair, pulling away again, "What of when I die?"

 

 

"I shall love you still," the godling whispered, and made to kiss him again.

 

 

The boy shoved him lightly, and they fell from the bed, "No, you can not, you must not."

 

 

The godling suddenly angered and growled, thier eyes narrowing, "You do not tell me what I must not do."

 

 

And then he was alone, inside the pale colors of his room, he was alone.

 

 

/

 

 

There were two long, deep scratches on his arm and his leg. "Morpheus," he choked out and he was not alone.

 

 

They appeared instantly, thier eyes cutting straight to the wounds he had aquired, "You stupid boy."

 

 

"I did not," -- he winced, closing his eyes -- "mean to."

 

 

The godling's gaze softened, and they knelt to place a hand on the wounds.

 

 

"You can not heal me, I know." the boy bit out, but they stopped him sharply, "You do not tell me what I can not do."

 

 

The demigod laughed weakly, and lifted his hand -- bloody and sweaty and weak as he was -- to brush the godling's hair out of his eyes.

 

 

Morpheus kissed his blood soaked palm. "You do not get to leave me, I promised her."

 

 

Maliki smiled at his godly lover, "She will understand," and let out a shaky breath and then breathed no more.

 

 

The god of dreams did not move, besides for their fingers which curled around the dark locks and the tears that feel from thier nose.

 

 

/

 

 

The voice from the darkness was almost gentle when it called thier name. "Morpheus."

 

 

Thanatos stood by the trees, the familiar scent of smoke and death drifting off him in waves.

 

 

"Morpheus," the death god said again, softer, "Morpheus, what have you done?"

 

 

They shook thier head, arms curling tighter around the dead boy's shoulders.

 

 

"I loved him, Uncle. I loved him and it killed him.

 

 

/

 

 

Falling in _**love**_ with a _god_ is not a death sentence, the story is only a _**tragedy**_ if the god loves you _back_.


End file.
